The High Sheriffs of Warwickshire and Worcestershire, with their _posse
comitatus_, were in pursuit of the fugitives, who arrived at Holbeach
House at ten of the clock on Thursday night.
At Holbeach they prepared to make their last stand. And alack! never more
were the brothers John and Christopher Wright destined to behold Lapworth,
Twigmore, Ripon, Skelton, Newby, Mulwith, York, or Plowland,[A] nor any of
those scenes around which must have clung so many endearing associations
and sacred memories.[156]
[Footnote A: For an account of recent visits to Mulwith and Plowland, see
Supplementum IV. and Supplementum V.
To the generosity of my friend, Miss Burnham, the lady of Plowland, my
readers owe the view of the present Plowland House, which forms the
Frontispiece to this Book. The old Hall occupied the site of the present
dwelling, and faced the river Humber towards the south. The gabled
buildings in the rear are ancient, and behind them are a few mossy Gothic
stones, evidently belonging to the old chapel. Behind the ancient
buildings is a willow-fringed remnant of the old moat. George Burnham,
Esq., brother to Miss Burnham, is the owner of this historic spot. Edward
Wright Burnham, Esq., of Skeffling, Holderness, is their brother. The
names _Edward Wright_ suggest descent from Edward Wright, the son of
Christopher Wright, the revealing conspirator.]
Early in the morning of Friday some of the company went out to descry
whether or not reinforcements were in sight. Others began to prepare their
shot and powder.
Catesby, Rookwood, and Grant were severely burnt in the face, especially
the two latter, with some damp or dank gunpowder which they were drying
on a platter before the kitchen fire, and into which a hot cinder fell.
This incident seems to have thoroughly unnerved Catesby and all his wicked
confederates. They saw in the fact a stroke of poetic justice——nay, the
flaming, avenging sword of Heaven.
Thomas Winter was told by Catesby and the rest, in reply to his question,
“We mean here to die.”
Winter thereupon replied, “I will take such part as you do.”
“Then they all fell earnestly to their prayers,” says Gerard, “the
litanies and such like.” They also “spent an hour in meditation.”
About eleven o’clock in the forenoon of that black Friday, November the
8th, 1605, the High Sheriff of Worcestershire arrived with the whole power
and force of the county, and beset the house.
Thomas Winter, going into the court-yard, was shot in the shoulder with an
arrow from a cross-bow, and lost the use of his right arm.
John Wright was shot dead.
Christopher Wright was mortally wounded.
Ambrose Rookwood was wounded in four or five places.
John Grant was likewise disabled.
Catesby and Thomas Percy, each sword in hand, and “standing before the
door” close together, were mortally wounded by two successive shots fired
by one musketeer, who afterwards boasted of his resolute carriage of
himself on that eventful day.[A]
[Footnote A: The man’s name was John Streete. He received a pension of two
shillings a day for life, equal to about sixteen shillings a day in our
money. Gerard’s “_What was the Gunpowder Plot?_” p. 155.]
Catesby, before receiving his fatal shot, we are told by Father Gerard in
his “_Narrative_,” p. 109, “took from his neck a cross of gold, which he
always used to wear about him, and blessing himself with it and kissing
it, showed it unto the people, protesting there solemnly before them all
it was only for the honour of the Cross, and the exaltation of that Faith
which honoured the Cross, and for the saving of their souls in the same
Faith that had moved him to undertake the business; and seth he saw it was
not God’s will it should succeed in that manner they intended, or at that
time, he was willing and ready to give his life for the same cause, only
he would not be taken by any, and against that only he would defend
himself with his sword.
“This done, Mr. Catesby and Mr. Percy turned back to back, resolving to
yield themselves to no man, but to death as the messenger of God.
“None of their adversaries did come near them, but one fellow standing
behind a tree with a musket, shot them both with one bullet,[A] and Mr.
Catesby was shot almost dead, the other lived three or four days.
[Footnote A: It was with one musket, but two successive bullets.]
“Mr. Catesby being fallen to the ground, as they say, went upon his knees
into the house, and there got a picture of our Blessed Lady in his arms
(unto whom he was accustomed to be very devout), and so embracing and
kissing the same, he died.”[B]
[Footnote B: The mind of each of the thirteen Gunpowder conspirators
affords the intellectual philosopher and the moral philosopher rich food
for thought. What a reflection from human nature is not the soul of these
men, one and all——especially Catesby, Thomas Percy, Thomas Winter, Guy
Fawkes, Ambrose Rookwood, and Christopher Wright. I would especially point
out the strange superstition that Catesby exhibited in wishing to blow up
the _Parliament House_, because it was _there_ the iniquitous laws had
been made against the Catholics. He primarily wished, like some pagan, to
be revenged on the _material object_, which had been the unconscious and
irresponsible instrument of his kinsfolk’s and friends’ hurt.
Moreover, how true to daily experience is the behaviour of Catesby in his
last moments: of one who in his youth had been very wild, but who, on
reaching maturer years, had grown to have a great devotion to _her_ whom
Wordsworth has so beautifully styled “our tainted nature’s solitary
boast.”
Again; the dying soldier’s flying for protection to, and the kissing in
his last agony, when the light of life was about to be quenched in his
mortal eyes for ever, a picture of _her_ who is “the Mother of Christ,”
and whom millions hold to be likewise “the Refuge of sinners,” is
startlingly true to human nature.
But——“Close up his eyes, and let us all to meditation.” For “_In la sua
volontade è nostra pace_”——“Only in the Will of God is man’s peace.” And
the essence of that Will is the Everlasting Moral Law.]
On the 9th of November Sir Edward Leigh wrote to the Privy Council that
the Wrights were not slain as reputed, but wounded. Not till the 13th was
their death certified by Sir Richard Walsh, High Sheriff of
Worcestershire.——See Gerard’s “_What was the Gunpowder Plot?_” pp. 153,
154.
Whatever was the case with John Wright, it seems clear that the weight of
evidence inclines to show that Christopher Wright did not expire on
Friday, the 8th November, but that he lingered at least a day or two. The
exact day of Christopher Wright’s death, and what became of his remains,
may be ascertained facts hereafter, possibly. At present, they are
unknown.[157]